


I'll Wait To Be The One

by AndreaLyn



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, marriage pact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-18 22:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22367365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: “If we’re both forty and we’re both still single, then we’ll get married.It's all well and good making a safety pact when you're sixteen, but now Michael's facing down the barrel of forty and Alex has found someone else (or so Michael thinks).
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 49
Kudos: 189





	I'll Wait To Be The One

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from _I'll Wait_ by the Strumbellas, which is also just an excellent [Malex song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s-GxCBM7FqQ).

They make the pact when they’re sixteen.

“There’s no one in this stupid town for me,” Alex complains. There’s one other gay guy, as far as he knows, and he’s a few years younger than Alex and absolutely not his type. He’s bitching and complaining, out at the far edges of the school where the picnic tables have been set up and forgotten (and usually only used for drug deals). “I’d have to drive out to Santa Fe or Albuquerque and you really think my father’s gonna let me do that?”

He scoffs, because no, that’s not gonna happen. 

“So I’m never gonna meet anyone, and even if I do, how the hell would I bring them back here and explain this place? My family? It’s a lonely, shitty life.”

He’s not _alone_ , though. At least, not in this specific moment.

“What if we made a deal, then?” Michael suggests, tipping his head up from where he’s seated in between Alex’s legs on the picnic table. 

Outside of Liz and Maria, Michael is probably his best friend. Alex has a ridiculous crush on him, but he’s not about to ruin their friendship by blurting that out, especially not when Michael seems to have a new girlfriend every other month. Besides, he has no idea if Michael thinks of him as anything else. Since Alex offered Michael the shed, they’ve been really friendly, but Alex still hasn’t found him taking up the offer yet.

Now Michael’s offering to make a deal. 

“Okay?” Alex replies, not sure what kind of pact they’re making. His mind flickers back to his brothers making him slice open his hand to seal pacts in blood as kids, and he hopes that whatever they’re doing doesn’t involve saliva or any other bodily fluids.

His cheeks flush when his hindbrain points out that he’d be okay with one very specific type of bodily fluid from Michael.

“If we’re both forty and we’re both still single,” he says, “then we’ll get married.”

Alex laughs, because it’s a joke. It has to be a joke.

Michael’s not laughing, though.

“What?” he asks, stunned into seriousness. “Wait, are you…?”

He didn’t even think Michael liked guys, which is enough of an epiphany to knock him into quiet shock, and it gives Michael an opportunity to keep talking.

“It’s not like I’m a catch,” he says derisively. “I don’t know. I’m not really marriage material, but the idea of being alone forever sucks, right? So let’s shake on it,” he says. “We’re good friends, I like you, and I think you can tolerate me,” he quips. “If we’re both forty and we still haven’t found anyone else, let’s get hitched.”

That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement of Michael admitting that he’s gay, but maybe he’s flexible enough that he’s willing to make the deal.

Forty’s a long way away, too, so maybe it means nothing at all.

“You’ve got a deal,” Alex says, and they shake on it.

Weeks later, Alex will kiss Michael and feel like he’s coming home. He’ll learn that the best day and the worst day of his life happen to be the very same, and then he’ll lose Michael for ten years, but not their pact. 

Through it all, the pact remains, and even when things seem to be at their worst, Alex clings to that as the shining beacon of light that it is.

If they’re still forty and there’s no one else, Alex knows that they’ll make it back around to one another. When he ships out, he sends Michael an explanation and an apology, along with a question.

_Do we still have a deal?_

Given that Michael’s hand has been mangled as a direct consequence of being with him, Alex doesn’t know if he’s going to get a response. It takes days before his phone pings with a message from Michael, but when it does, there’s a simple, _Forty. Yes._

It creates hope. It lets Alex think that maybe there’s a chance for them down the line, even if it takes them that long to figure it out. 

He’s still figuring himself out, from who he is to who he wants to be. Having the safety net and the promise of a marriage to Michael down the line helps him, because every bad boyfriend and awful one-night stand comes with the security of knowing that he’s got something if none of this ends up working out.

Even now, he’s still got Michael, if only as a distant promise in the future.

It's a _maybe_. It’s a what-if. It’s not a guarantee, but it’s better than anything else he’s got, so Alex intends to hold onto it as tightly as he can.

* * *

“Happy birthday, Michael!”

He cuts through the streamers in his office, shooting Liz a dubious look. “You know I really didn’t wanna celebrate this one,” he complains. 

Thirty-nine years old. Fuck. He really never thought he’d get here, but here he is, and not only is he here, but all the alien drama and the chaos of a decade ago has faded into…

Well, this monotony.

He's still in Roswell, because he’s truthfully starting to think that he’s never going to leave Roswell. The ship is sitting fully completed in his bunker, but he hasn’t looked at it seriously in five years. If he’s honest with himself, he’d stopped looking after they brought Max back from the dead and he and Liz got together.

Wedding bells, babies, the whole lot, that’s what Michael’s life has been and honestly, he doesn’t even hate it. Michael’s an uncle now, who works with their Mom at a lab in Roswell. 

He’s relatively settled and today he’s thirty-nine and he’s single. 

“Well, I still bought you a cupcake and if you don’t want it, then I’m eating it,” Liz says, holding out the box, before digging out her tablet. “Alex sent a video message,” Liz adds, flipping the device around so she can show it to him.

“I don’t wanna see it.”

He really doesn’t, because it’ll have Forest in the background. Their little picnic-table-promise hadn’t been something Michael thought much about until suddenly he turned thirty-five. At the time, Alex had been single, and he’d written him a card that said that if neither of them found anyone in a few years, they’d be drifting back to one another, like the magnets they are.

It’s Michael’s stupid fault for allowing his hopes to raise the way they had, because only two years later, Alex had to go and meet Forest in the middle of one of his recon missions, dismantling Project Shepherd around the globe. He’d fallen for him, or started dating him, or something. All he knows is that they’re precariously close to the promise they made and it’s looking like Michael’s going to be the only one who’s single.

“Wait,” says Michael, because he has an idea. 

It’s not a great idea, but it’s _an_ idea. 

“Write back, tell Alex thank you,” he insists. “And…and tell him that things are good here, and that it’s a good thing that he’s got someone, because I met someone too.”

Liz stops typing, shooting Michael a scathing look. “I’m not lying to him.”

“Liz, come on,” he pleads. “He’s happy, and I’m just…”

Thirty-nine and pathetic.

“Please,” Michael begs. “Come on, it’ll be your birthday gift to me!” She’s already brought him a cupcake, but he’s decided he doesn’t want sweets. He wants her to participate in an elaborate lie to somehow make Michael seem less pathetic so when he crosses the forty finish line next year and Alex is happily with someone else, then he won’t look at him with pity.

Liz lets out a heavy sigh and that’s when Michael knows he’s won.

She’s not happy about it, but she’s going to do it.

“What’s her name?”

“His,” Michael says, and he’s not sure why it matters so much that he has a fake boyfriend, but in his head it makes sense. “Name him Brad. Say he’s a volunteer firefighter and…I don’t know,” he says with a wave of his hand. “Maybe just find a picture from someone you used to go to school with, find a handsome one.”

Liz shakes her head, but she’s typing. “This is one of the stupidest ideas you’ve ever had.”

“Trust me, it’s really not.”

She gives a disgruntled noise. “I hate that you’re right.”

When she’s finished typing (and before she’s sent it), she turns the tablet towards him so that he can assess the message. He knows he should feel bad about lying to Alex like this, but the thing is, with their pact about to be crumbled to pieces because Alex has found someone and he hasn’t, this seems like the better alternative.

He doesn’t need Alex feeling guilty, not when he’s finally _good_.

“Send it,” he says gruffly. “And then let’s go back to the samples. Okay?”

Liz shakes her head, clearly disapproving, but doing as he’d asked. “Okay,” she agrees. “Incidentally, and on record, you’re an idiot.”

She doesn’t have to tell him twice.

He already knows that for a genius, his idiot tendencies sometimes surprise even him.

* * *

Michael manages to keep up the story of his fake boyfriend for the next year, miraculously, though it helps that Alex is stuck in Germany for most of it. 

Then, things get messy.

“You guys got Alex’s email, right?” Isobel asks, as she’s passing back their niece to Max, watching as the four-year-old goes shouting for her twin to start playing hide and seek. “He’s finally back in town in a few weeks.” Her gaze slides over to Michael, smirking at him. “It’ll be just in time for our birthday. It’s my turn to pick.”

Michael can feel the way his jaw tightens. “Forest coming with him?”

“He sent the email to you, too, asshole,” Isobel snipes. “But no, he didn’t say.”

Michael’s not going to take that as a good sign. Given their assignments and their tasks, Forest not showing up could mean he’s in Europe cleaning up a new alien mess, and he’s bound to follow after Alex eventually. 

He’s still glad that Forest won’t be there for the party. He’s fairly sure if he had to watch Alex and Forest snuggled up and making out while Michael turned forty to stare down the barrel of a lonely life, his powers might tip over the point of control. Alex is already forty, and this birthday means that the window of opportunity to be with Alex for the rest of their lives is about to slam shut, because Alex has already found someone else.

“What’s the birthday plan, then?”

“We’re having dinner and drinks at my house, then movies in the backyard.”

For Isobel, it’s an incredibly tame birthday. Michael suspects that it’s because it’s the fortieth and the thought of celebrating that with witnesses is a little too much for her to bear.

For Michael, it’s probably for the best. 

Given that his arrangement with Alex is about to vanish because Alex has a boyfriend, he’d rather not be in public to be that maudlin about the fact that he waited too long and had been counting on something that he should have done something about. Five years ago, he really thought he would.

Then, the mission had come along and so had Forest, and now here they are.

The run-up to the actual birthday goes fairly smoothly. He helps Isobel with the party plans, since it’s also his and Max’s party. He orders drinks and cake, goes to yell at the caterers when they tell Isobel they can’t get her salmon, and he even drives to Santa Fe for a specific lantern decoration Isobel tells them they have to have.

He knows he’s avoiding being around when Alex gets back to town, but he’s mostly hoping no one else picks up on it. 

Lucky for him, either people just don’t care or they’re busy with their own lives, because the day of his birthday rolls around and no one comments on the fact that Michael hasn’t spent much time with the group since Alex’s flight got in. Seeing as he’s staying at Max’s place, it’s been kind of awkward seeing as his nieces desperately want him to visit. 

And then, the birthday arrives, with a crushing whimper. 

He’s forty years old today.

Reaching for his phone, Michael grabs his reading glasses at the same time to go over the messages (because he got back in from a tow job late last night, and it’s almost noon now, so his phone is already stuffed with them). 

“Morning, Michael,” is the voicemail he gets from Liz and the kidlets. “Happy birthday Uncle Mikey!” one of them shouts. “We can’t wait to see you at Isobel’s party tonight,” Liz says, brushing her hair back. “Alex says he can’t wait either.” He hears Alex’s voice in the background protesting, but he’s not in the frame for Michael to see his face.

That’ll teach Alex to stay with Liz and Max when he’s back in town.

“We love you so much,” Liz keeps going, “and we’re so proud that you’re forty and healthy and with us, instead of going anywhere else.”

Trust Liz to guilt him into not taking that first swig of acetone. He grimaces and puts it away, sitting up and staring at his phone. 

There’s a message from Alex that says ‘happy birthday’, but nothing else. Michael tries not to be disappointed, but he can’t help it. In his stupid mind, he’d thought that he’d start today with Alex, both of them lamenting their sad love lives, and happily accepting the pact they’d made a long time ago.

At least one of them will be happy, come tomorrow, even if it’s Forest who’s going to do that for Alex and not Michael. 

He drags himself out of bed and heads to the bathroom to stare at his reflection in the mirror, wondering when the hell he got so old. He knows that given the fact he was in a pod for seventy years, he’s still looking pretty good, but he feels it.

Or maybe it’s just exhaustion and loneliness.

They’re all sort of combining together, these days, into something that makes Michael feel a lot more tired than he did at twenty-one. He rubs at his face, stares at the man in the mirror, and decides that if he’s going to be forty, he might as well face it with dignity.

He heads over to Isobel’s in the early afternoon, and ends up sitting in the backyard with a beer, staring up at the projector screen and wondering what he’s going to do when he’s forty years old plus one day, and Alex is with someone else – when he doesn’t have the pact to lean back on and tell himself that it’s going to be fine, because one day he and Alex would work their way back to one another.

He guesses that he’ll have to move on, for real this time, even if the thought makes his stomach drop like he’s in a free-falling elevator.

“He’s over there,” Michael hears Isobel’s voice.

Before he can ask her who she’s directing, he sees Alex approaching him with a piece of cake on a plate, which means the kids must’ve complained that there wasn’t any cake yet. “Hey,” Alex says softly. “Happy birthday,” he says. “Your boyfriend couldn’t make it?”

Right. The fake boyfriend story.

Honestly, he’s kind of shocked that Liz hadn’t spilled the beans about that being a total lie.

The lump in Michael’s throat is awful and he swallows past it to give Alex a nervous look. “We actually broke up,” he admits, because it’s easy to pretend you have a relationship when you’re only trying to dupe a person who’s never around, but there’s no way he can do it while Alex is in town.

Alex is staring at him, looking wary, but says nothing. 

“Now we’re both forty, huh,” Michael says, watching as Land Before Time plays nearby on the projector, the twins leaning up and alternating between popcorn and cake as they watch, their eyes wide and bright. He’s got to be happy for that, at least, that he has this family. “Lucky you, though, you don’t need to fall back on our safety pact.”

“Michael…” 

Michael shakes his head, and figures there’s no harm in being honest now that it’s not going to happen. “You know, for years, I never really looked too hard. After everything went down with Noah and Caulfield and Max, I know I fucked up, but when I got my life back together, I never really tried, because I knew that if I made it to forty, then I could have you. I’m an idiot, though. I should’ve put in the work, I shouldn’t done something more than just assume we’d get together if we both made it to forty and single.”

He stares at the cake in his hands, fidgeting with the fork.

“I could’ve been thirty-five and asked you out on a date. I was so scared that I’d fuck it up, that I thought I’d wait and if the universe meant for us to be together, then we’d both be forty and the pact would kick in. Clearly, I was wrong about that.”

Michael pushes at the cake on his plate, knowing he can’t leave it like that. 

“I’m glad you found someone that treats you right, though. If I can’t be with you, I’m glad that you have Forest.”

“I don’t have him, though.”

Michael squints at him, not sure he heard that right. “Uh…what?” He hates that his heart is beating faster, that he’s letting himself be hopeful. 

“Forest and I actually broke up just before I came back here for your birthday,” Alex admits.

“ _What_?” This is news to Michael, especially since if Alex is admitting that, then he’s also admitting that he’s forty and single, which means…

“I knew that your birthday was coming up. And I um, I knew that you didn’t have a boyfriend, not really,” he says apologetically, which means he’s been playing along with Michael’s story for his sake. “When I thought about coming to your party, about the next day with our pact dissolved, I freaked out.”

Michael’s staring at Alex like he’s seeing him for the first time in years.

“It made me realize that the only future I could imagine was the one we made when we were kids. The one where you and I get married.”

“Alex,” he gets out, a pained sob stuck in his chest, “are you telling me that we could’ve been together before this?”

“Probably not,” Alex admits. “Because I did enjoy my time with other guys. My other relationships taught me that it wasn’t cosmic with you because you were my first and only. That it's as epic as it is _because_ it’s you.” He gives him a hopeful look as he sits down beside Michael, staring at him nervously.

“So you’re single,” Michael says.

“Yup.”

“And I’m single.”

Alex nods again, the crow’s feet around his eyes beginning to show as he smiles. “You sure are.”

Michael can’t help it. He laughs at how ridiculous they’ve been, but he’s also so utterly grateful because he gets to say this. “Hey Alex. If you’re forty and I’m forty,” he says, the protective ice around his heart melting as he tears up, knowing that he’s about to get the best gift he’s ever received. “You wanna get hitched?”

Alex reaches out and covers Michael’s palm with his own. “Yeah, Michael. I do.”

* * *

Michael is forty-one years old tomorrow. 

“Michael,” Alex grumbles from where he’s beside him in bed, yanking at his hand. “Don’t you dare be thinking about getting up.”

Michael looks back to his _husband_ , grinning as he burrows back under the heavy duvet cover with him. He hasn’t been out on a mission since they got married (a month after Michael’s fortieth), which had in turn sent them down this nesting path where they spent more time buying housewares than researching government conspiracies.

The wedding registry had definitely helped with that.

“I’m sorry, is it too cold in bed without me?” he teases, whispering the words as he wraps himself around Alex from behind, flush against him as he rocks his hips, splaying his palm under Alex’s pajama pants as he brushes his nose along the line of his neck, grinning as he buries his face against Alex’s skin.

Alex hums out an agreement, even though Michael’s pretty sure it’s more _moan_ than hum, but he lets it slide. 

“I gotta pick up the cake,” he whispers, when it becomes clear that Alex doesn’t intend to let him go anywhere. “You know that Isobel’s gonna kill me if I don’t.”

Alex rolls onto his back so he can stare up at Michael, tangling their fingers together. “Let’s make a deal.” Michael grins, and he’s all ears. “You go and get the cake, but bring back a cupcake. I know your birthday is tomorrow, but I kind of feel like licking frosting off every inch of your body.”

“Deals with you have worked out pretty well for me, historically,” Michael admits, and presses slow kisses to Alex’s shoulder, over his collarbone, and then to his heart. “Back in one hour?”

“Don’t be late,” Alex warns, stretching out and tugging at the duvet when Michael gets out of bed and temporarily disrupts it. “I’d hate to be disappointed.”

“For my husband?” Michael vows, and leans down for one last kiss. “Never.”


End file.
